


Blush

by sunshyndaisies (writergirlie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirlie/pseuds/sunshyndaisies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion story to "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/147114">Before</a>." Same interlude, but from Hermione's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush

Hermione never used to think of herself as a blusher. It wasn’t because she never got embarrassed, because she did, and it wasn’t because she hadn’t any occasions to, because she had. But those moments tended to be few and far between, truly mortifying moments that she’d care not to dwell on.

 

Now, though, it seemed she could blush at the drop of a hat--or a drop of a tendril, rather. A loose, wayward strand of copper fringe, to be exact, that seemed to defy obedience and always brush across his forehead when she was most vulnerable to its charms.

 

Oh God. She had turned into _that_ kind of a girl.

 

She always figured that when she fell in love--the very thought of it made her practically hyperventilate--that she would be sensible about it. After all, she had sensible parents, and they raised a very sensible daughter, and they had taught her from an early age that “real” love was nothing like the way it was in the cinema. They’d cautioned her not to expect thunderbolts or grand declarations or least of all, stars in one’s eyes.

 

And so of course, she was completely, utterly, woefully unprepared when it happened to her. If only they wrote books about such things.

 

He was sitting back now, arm casually slung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. She heard her breath hiss through her teeth, then quickly reached for a pencil to place between them, lest she make another such embarrassingly obvious slip. From the corner of her eye, she could see him staring at her; maybe if she stared at this book long enough, he would think she was actually reading it.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Oh no. There went the tendril. Hermione bit down harder on the pencil and reminded herself to be sensible.

 

“Er... Rattle Grass... remind me again what it’s used for?”

 

She sighed. She was hoping that he would... oh, never mind. It was a silly thought anyway. They were in the library, for Merlin’s sake.

 

Heart beating painfully against her ribs, she drew his book towards her. It smelled of chocolate from the small piece of tin foil (from a chocolate frog, no doubt) that he was using as a bookmark. It smelled like Ron. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck, until she realised--somewhat in dismay--that it had just been a loose lock of hair spilling out of her twist.

 

“There,” she said, forcing herself to focus. “Page 368, Ron.”

 

“Huh?”

 

He was staring at her. Her cheeks were no doubt on fire now.

 

“Page 368. The properties of Rattle Grass.”

 

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

 

She smiled. She rather liked it when he was awkward like this. It made her forget how awkward she was.

 

She went back to her book, pretending to concentrate, realising a few seconds later that her book was upside-down. He didn’t seem to notice, though.

 

But she wondered if he noticed her blushing right now.

 


End file.
